The Everlasting Day
by JessReyes
Summary: Sirius has been on the run from the Ministry for almost a year, and he's running out of places to hide. Tired and frustrated with his inability to help Harry when he needs him, he decides that the only way to reclaim his future is to first reclaim his past. But twelve years is a long time - can things ever be the same? AU.
1. Chapter 1

**1**

_All other things, to their destruction draw,_

_Only our love hath no decay;_

_This, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday,_

_Running it never runs from us away_

_But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day._

_ - John Donne, _Songs and Sonnets 'The Anniversary'

The night was heavy around him as he laid back into the soft, slightly damp grass and stared up into the crystal-studded canopy of the sky. The heat of the day still lingered in the barely moving air and beads of perspiration peppered his brow, but he lacked the energy or the will to wipe them away. Behind him, tethered to a stile at the edge of the tree line, Buckbeak crunched through fallen leaves and broken branches as he nibbled at the scattered patches of browning grass that had just managed to survive the summer drought. At least he seemed happy, Sirius thought; happy in his ignorance that there were probably groups from the Ministry of Magic searching for him right at this moment. He envied his companion his peace. If only Sirius could have forgotten about the fact that they were looking for him too. And what they would do to him if they caught him. After all, what did guilt or innocence matter to a Dementor?

When he had escaped from Azkaban, it had been with the express purpose of killing Pettigrew before he killed Harry. The best Sirius had hoped for beyond that was at least a chance to explain to Harry, his godson, what had really happened to his parents that night. How he had failed them. How sorry he was that, in the end, he had been as helpless as everyone else. It had become vital to him that even if no one else ever knew the truth - even if he had to spend the rest of his life on the run - that Harry truly believed that the last thing Sirius could ever have wanted was to see Lily and James hurt.

He had never dreamed, as he had lain in that cold, dark cell, that not only would he be given that chance, but that he would also have the hope of building a new life for himself and Harry - to give him everything that had been denied him since his parents had died. The bonus of seeing Pettigrew getting what he deserved would have been like the gift-wrapping on almost twelve years worth of Christmas and birthday wishes for himself.

But then everything had fallen apart. Remus hadn't taken his potion, and when the full moon had risen…

Sirius shivered at the memory of the dark thoughts and feelings that had enveloped him after he had been captured again; locked up in the tallest tower in Hogwarts to await his fate. It was over. Everything. His last chance, gone. For a moment, he had almost considered...

But then Harry and one of his best friends, Hermione, had arrived at his door with Buckbeak to fly him to freedom. He'd only had a few moments to thank Harry for saving his life. After coming so close to having his life back again, it had truly torn his heart out to have to leave Harry again so soon. He was sure that Harry had felt it too…some connection with his father; some thin, barely tangible link to a past he had been desperately anxious to know more about. But there was no time. At least, not then.

Perhaps soon.

Sirius sighed at the ache crawling through his belly. After twelve years of imprisonment, he had learned to be content with his own company. He had developed ways of coping with injustice, anger, grief and regret. But he was finding it harder than ever now. Seeing Remus again, seeing the passage of the years in his face, had made him feel more lonely than ever. So much time had been lost.

How he missed his friends...

The air was stinging his eyes. He closed them, and wiped the moisture there away with the back of his hand.

Even with Buckbeak - the most loyal, most companionable animal he had ever had the pleasure of meeting - the nights were hard. And so very long. Sometimes, the loneliness grew so overwhelming that it was more than he could bear.

Which was why he had taken to coming here, to the top of this hill just south-west of the London border in Surrey where he could stretch out in the fresh air and gaze down onto the village at the foot of the valley, its lights blinking and twinkling like a Christmas scene in a Muggle snow globe. No one ever disturbed them here. He could lie back in the soft grass, gaze at the Muggle village and imagine all the lives being lived beneath the slated and thatched roofs - the meals being eaten, the books being read, the jokes being shared, the hugs being received, the love being given - and somehow, he would feel a part of it. A part of something, something greater, something more than Azkaban and the Ministry.

Part of a life that was beginning to feel as though it would be forever beyond his grasp.

He knew that he would have to stop running soon. The summer was dying and the leaves were already turning to fire on the slowly ageing trees. The Shrieking Shack at Hogsmead had provided last year's shelter over the autumn and winter, but there was no going back there, not now that Snape knew about it. He had to find somewhere else.

There weren't many places he could think of for a couple of fugitives from the Ministry to hide. His mother's old house, perhaps. As long as he could deal with her ghost screeching at him as soon as he set foot over the door. Remus' place in the Moors...but it was no-where near big enough for them both, and he didn't want to put his old friend in any more danger - werewolves weren't particularly looked upon fondly by the Ministry either.

But there was one other place...

A place that should have been the last on his list. The likelihood of ever being welcome there was...

And yet...

He sat up, shaking bits of grass from his long, straggly, unkempt hair. It had to be worth a shot. It was the best chance Buckbeak and he had right now. What's the worst that could happen? He would be turned away. Nothing new. But at least he will have tried. It would hurt, no doubt about that. But he was used to pain. God only knew he'd had enough of that. Then he could fly down to Remus'. Drown themselves in Firewhisky and then figure out where to go from there. It had to beat sitting around in abandoned Muggle factories all winter.

Sirius stood up and straightened the long, tattered coat that covered his prison rags as he strode up the grass hill back towards Beaky.

'You ready then, old friend?' he said, untying Buckbeak's' chain and patting his enormous feathered head. The Hippogriff closed his eyes, enjoying the caress for a while before shaking out his huge wings and bending his neck to allow Sirius to mount.

With a stomach-churning lurch, Buckbeak shot up high into the air, Sirius clinging on hard to his reins as his wings beat powerfully against the night air, carrying them away from the field, northwards, towards the Lake District.

Towards Ariadne Snape.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

It was already beginning to grow light in the east when Sirius brought Buckbeak down in a small clearing in the trees that lined the shores close to Derwentwater. He took out the wand he had liberated from Professor Flitwick's office and whispered '_Lumos_'. The cone of light that erupted from the tip pushed back the last vestiges of shadows that clung to the narrow spaces between the trees. Sirius and Buckbeak followed the worn track leading from the clearing down towards a small tributary stream that would, if memory served him, lead them to Ariadne's house.

He had only been here a handful of times before. Many years ago. He had been a little worried about finding the place again but now that he _was_ here, it was as though he had never been away. Everything from the heathers lining the hillside to the shimmering golden glint of early morning sunlight on the gently shifting lake below and the dark silhouette of St Herbert's Island looked exactly the same in reality as they had in his memories, and he derived a deep sense of comfort from the thought that there were still some things that hadn't changed during the past twelve years.

After a few minutes walk the trees began to thin as the ground sloped gently downwards and the lazy stream started to babble and splash as it made its way over stones and boulders in its path, gathering energy with its increasing gradient. On a small plateau, just before the ground began to slope downwards again, the stream had formed a small pool. On its banks stood an old watermill and beside it, Ariadne's house.

It was a small, homely-looking place, with smoke pouring welcomingly from the slightly askew stone chimney mounted above a thatched roof. It seemed to be lit from within, the light strong enough to hold back the shadows that tried to encroach from the edge of the trees. Although little sun penetrated the canopy here, an explosion of roses grew around an arched trellis over the door and more flowers had interwoven themselves around the picket fence that surrounded the cottage. The garden was rich and heady with the scents from the multitude of flowers and herbs that flourished there, the carpet of colour interspersed with apple, hawthorn, fire seed and other trees that Sirius didn't recognise. He smiled to himself; she always did have a gift for herbology.

It was a perfect home for her, protected both from Muggles and the magical community with a host of repelling charms. No one would ever have found her here if she didn't want them to. And undoubtedly she didn't.

Not after...

'Wait here, Beaky,' he whispered to the hippogriff, stroking his razor-sharp beak. 'If she doesn't break my nose, I'll come get you.'

Buckbeak keened gently in the back of his throat and bowed his head before turning to nibble at the leaves on some of the lower-hanging branches of an oak tree.

Sirius headed towards the heavy wooden door with a tightening in his stomach he hadn't felt in a long time. Mostly nerves. He supposed that was to be expected. But also something else that was harder to pin down. If pushed, he would have said it was fear - of rejection; of having no-where else to turn; of being unforgiven.

Of daring to hope again.

But he was here now. He had to know. One way or the other.

_For better or for worse..._

He knocked on the door.

'Who is it?' said a female voice from inside - a slightly apprehensive one. She probably wasn't used to visitors.

A vacuum was eating at his insides. His tongue had been replaced by a lump of dry sponge. He cleared his throat. 'Ari? It's...it's me.'

The door flew open.

His heart ached to see the toll the past twelve years had taken on her. Her long, jet-black hair still hung in a loose tangle over her shoulders, although it seemed a little more dull than it used to be. Her skin was somewhat paler than he remembered too, although that was probably down to the near isolation that she had been reduced to, but nowhere was the passage and pain of the years written more clearly than in her eyes. Huge, sea-green pools that used to sparkle with life, they now seemed darker, their light extinguished, their beauty muted to an unpolished jade.

But she was still so beautiful, more so than she had ever been in twelve years worth of dreams and fantasies.

_Twelve years…_

_So unbearably long..._

Four thousand, three hundred and eighty days and nights; one hundred and five thousand hours of darkness, loneliness, despair…more than six million minutes; each one ticking by so torturously slowly. Each one an endless lifetime.

And he knew every second told on his face too, but seeing the mirrored suffering in someone he cared about was worse than a hundred years in that dank, dark cell.

'Oh my god…Sirius,' she gasped, looking at him as though she were seeing a ghost. 'What…what the hell are you doing here? They're looking for you…they're…'

'I know,' he replied, lowering his gaze to the stone step, unable to bear the pain of seeing her again and thinking of everything that might have been. This was harder than he had ever imagined. 'I don't have any right to be standing here, I know that. But I need your help, Ari. Please. I don't have anyone else to turn to.'

She glanced beyond him into the trees, scanning the shadows behind the limits of her fence. Her eyes looked like those of a startled rabbit sensing a predator. 'Sirius, you shouldn't have come here. They'll know…they'll suspect at the very least. I can't get served in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley as it is. They're even wary of me in Knockturn Alley. I don't want to make things any worse than they already are and I don't want any more trouble with the Ministry. I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave.'

He closed his eyes, frantic fear clutching at his heart. When he opened them again, he forced himself to look at her, hoping that she would find it harder to turn him away if she had to meet his eyes. 'Ariadne, please…I'm begging you…don't turn me away. I have evidence to prove my innocence. Pettigrew's alive and I just need some time to track him down. I can't spend the rest of my life running. Harry needs me, and I can't be there for him like this. If the Dementors catch me, they'll…' He couldn't bring himself to say it. The prospect was too horrific to verbalise. 'I'm so tired...watching all the time, constantly being aware, not being able to sleep... I'm not asking for anything more. I just need somewhere to hide. Somewhere safe. Ari, please help me.'

She sighed, watching him as he swiped angrily at his watery eyes. Whether some distant memory of the history between them had floated to the surface or whether she just felt pity for him, she stood aside to let him pass.

'All right, Sirius,' she relented, 'come in. Quickly.'

He did as he was told, hoping that Buckbeak would be patient for just a little while longer.

'You look awful,' she said as he stood in the hallway, hovering awkwardly, his eyes flicking over his surroundings as he fidgeted with the running hem of his prison jacket. She folded her arms, watching him, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. 'You smell pretty bad too, you know.'

He looked down at himself, sniffed at his arm. 'I'm sorry...I haven't been able to take care of things like that. Living the way I have the last year... It's hard trying to stay ahead of the Dementors.'

'Yes, I read in _The Prophet_ that the maximum penalty had been authorised.' She shook her head, denying a truth she already knew. 'I am so sorry, Sirius. Really I am. But you haven't done much to help yourself, have you? Breaking out like that, terrifying the whole of Hogwarts, slashing at paintings and scaring thirteen-year olds half to death by hovering over them with bowie knives in the middle of the night.'

'Bloody _Prophet,_' he muttered, 'never gets anything right. It was a scimitar.'

She couldn't help but smile. 'Sirius, I - '

'I would never have hurt anyone, you know that. It was Pettigrew I was after. Not Ron Weasley.'

'I'm sure the boy didn't know that at the time.'

'I did apologise to him, you know.'

'Look, why don't you go upstairs and take a bath, get yourself cleaned up. When I left home, some of Severus' old clothes got bagged up with mine. I don't know if they'll fit, but you're welcome to take a look. They're in a trunk in the spare bedroom. I'll get you something to eat. You look like you haven't had a decent meal in a long time.'

'I haven't. Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I ate at all. Thank you, Ariadne.'

'Don't thank me yet, I haven't decided whether or not to let you stay. And cut your hair and that god-awful beard while you're up there. You look like a grizzled old mountain man.'

He laughed, scratching at the matted, coarse wire-hair that covered his chin. 'Yeah, I suppose I do.'

Sirius turned and headed towards the rickety old wooden staircase that angled up to the first floor like something out of an Enid Blyton story. He had climbed only three steps before he stopped. 'Ari, I have a friend outside. Buckbeak. He's pretty hungry too. Do you have something you could give him?'

'Buckbeak?'

He grinned. 'I thought _The Prophet _was keeping you up to date on all the latest news regarding - ' he put on a deep, news-caster's sort of voice, ' - _that murdering, black-hearted blaggard, Sirius Black, and the most vicious and dangerous animal ever to stalk our lands, Buckbeak the hippogriff…two of Lord Voldemort's closest companions…the most sought after dark wizard since Voldemort himself…._'

Ariadne hissed. 'Sirius, you mustn't speak the Dark Lord's - '

Merlin's beard, aren't you a bit long in the tooth for that? Anyway, he's on the run from the Ministry too. He helped me escape and…well,' he sighed, 'it's a long story. I'll explain after I've cleaned myself up.'

'Well, I'll see what I can find for him. Though it's been a while since I've tried to befriend a hippogriff.'

'I have the utmost faith in you,' he replied as he started to climb the stairs.

Ariadne's cottage was much larger inside than it appeared to be from the outside. Thick, heavy wooden beams held up the whitewashed ceiling and formed a backbone to the walls along the hallway. There were four staggered doorways from the hall leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, and even though it had been years since Sirius had last walked here, he didn't have too much trouble finding his way around.

The wooden trunk Ariadne had mentioned stood at the foot of a large bed in what would have been, by anyone else's standards, a master rather than a spare room. On the other hand, perhaps he wasn't the best person to judge room size, being stuck in a seven by six foot cell for a third of his life. He popped the catch on the trunk and heaved the lid open to look inside. Most of Snape's robes were probably going to be far too big for him since he'd lost so much weight, but they had to be better than his prison rags that were beginning to smell as though something had died in them.

Actually, he thought, as he pulled the clothes out and started going through them, they weren't too bad. Old Snivellus must have finally developed some fashion sense after leaving Hogwarts. There were some highly acceptable black shirts, doublet-style waistcoats, cloaks, trousers, more formal robes and even some Muggle-ish jeans, t-shirts, regular shirts and a leather jacket. Sirius laughed to himself. He never knew Snape had it in him. But at least the clothes were clean, dry, and they still smelled as fresh as the day they were laundered, which made them a thousand times better than what he currently wore.

Sirius chose a pair of black jeans, loose-fitting white shirt and some black boots before heading back down the corridor to the bathroom. While he waited for the bath to fill, he turned to the mirror on the cabinet over the sink and wiped away the condensation to take a good look at himself.

No wonder he had cut such a menacing figure. He even frightened himself. The gaunt, lifeless face with the dull, dark eyes he saw staring back at him was someone he hardly recognised. No wonder Harry, Ron and Hermione had thought him to be a complete maniac when they had seen him. It was hardly the best first impression he had ever made in his life.

He had never been particularly accomplished in the area of personal grooming charms, preferring to trust a more mundane way of cutting his hair and beard, lest he end up looking even worse than he did at the moment. So, in lieu of an impossible visit to Snippets and Curls in Diagon Alley, he opened the bathroom cabinet and found a brush and a pair of scissors that should do the job well enough.

Carefully, he started cutting and chopping, feeling a strange kind of satisfaction as he watched the years of unchecked growth fall away into the sink. It felt like being cleansed. Purged of unclean memories. When he had finished with his hair, he started on his straggly beard, cutting as close to his skin as he dared before transfiguring the scissors into a cut-throat razor which he used to finish the job properly. When he was done, he wiped the new condensation from the mirror and as he gazed at his reflection, a slow smile started to creep across his face. That was better, he thought; much better. Much more like the old Sirius, even if his cheekbones did stand out a little more now than they used to and the years had added a few more lines around his eyes. Thirty-six was still young these days though and considering that he hadn't seen sunlight or fresh air in so long, he supposed he wasn't in too bad condition. Certainly not as bad as many others who hadn't been so lucky as to escape from Azkaban.

He shivered involuntarily. Sometimes he wondered how he had managed to hang on to his sanity at all.

As he sank down into the warm bath, letting the water soothe his muscles that still ached a little from his unexpected - though admittedly very bracing - fight with Lupin's alter-ego, his thoughts inevitably began to drift away from himself, from Buckbeak and even from Harry. They were both okay now, for the moment anyway, so at least his breakout had accomplished something besides upping his sentence to something worse than death.

No, at the forefront of his mind at the moment was the woman who waited for him downstairs.

Their history was a long and somewhat complicated one. The first time he met her had been at the sorting ceremony during his first year at Hogwarts.

James, Remus, Peter and himself had hit it off almost instantly. Being young, boisterous and eager to make an impression, they had also all been complete idiots. When they saw old Snivellus with his greasy, black hair and pale, pinched features, he had been too much of a target for them to ignore. It hadn't helped when he had refused to try to make friends with any of the others and had actually gone out of his way to insult almost everyone who made the mistake of approaching him. Calling Lily a filthy mudblood - although how he could have known of her heritage at that time had been a mystery - had been just about the final straw for James and Sirius. The same thought occurred to them both at the same time and they had muttered '_Tardesco!'_ in unison, causing Snape to trip over his robes and fall flat on his face in front of the whole hall.

That's when Sirius noticed the very pretty, somewhat shy girl who had knelt down to pick up Snape from the floor. Snape hit her away and spat at her to leave him alone as he had struggled to his feet, turned from her and walked confidently to the three-legged stool where the Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before declaring, '_Slytherin_!' Snape crept away to the Slytherin house dining table, leaving the girl close to tears as she stood in the waiting line alone.

Sirius had never really understood the wave of fury that had risen up within him as he saw the look on her face. As James was too occupied with trying to pacify - and flirt with - Lily, and with Peter and Remus being too busy almost wetting themselves laughing, it had fallen to Sirius to check if the girl with the huge, sad, soulful but extremely pretty green eyes had been okay.

'You shouldn't waste time worrying about people like him, you know. They deserve to be brought down a peg or two from time to time,' he said. 'He shouldn't have been so horrible to you, especially when you were being nice to him.'

She shrugged her shoulders and wiped her eyes. 'It's okay. It's my fault for fussing him. He hates it when I do that. He's my brother.'

'Your _brother_? How come you're both in the same year then?'

'We're twins,' she replied softly, pushing her dark hair away from her face.

_'Twins_?'

'Not identical,' she smiled. Then flushed, as though realising that she hadn't needed to point that out.

'Oh,' said Sirius, still not quite believing that someone so ugly and someone so pretty could possibly be twins. 'And you just let him speak to you like that?'

'He doesn't mean it. Not really. He was lovely to me on the train. He's just nervous about his first day, that's all. I think he was hoping to be in Gryffindor.'

Sirius laughed as he glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw the sour look plastered on Snape's face. He couldn't have thought of anyone who was less likely to end up in Gryffindor. 'Well he's hiding his disappointment well, isn't he?'

She had smiled as her eyes met his. Even though he had only been eleven years old, he had felt something stirring within him. A strange feeling, as though he already knew her from somewhere. There was a familiarity there, like an old friend it takes you a while to place.

'He doesn't mix well with other people. He's always preferred to be on his own. It doesn't work too well when he has a sister who could use his company, especially today. I'm a bit nervous myself.'

'Oh, I'm sure we can do something about that,' Sirius had beamed, flamboyantly bowing down low in front of her before holding out his hand. 'Consider yourself accompanied. Allow me to introduce myself. Mr Sirius Black - charming, witty, sometimes annoying but always attractive wizard extraordinaire, at your service. And your name is…'

'Ariadne,' she had giggled shyly, taking his hand. 'Ariadne Snape.'

'Snape, Ariadne!' Professor McGonagall then called, having bypassed her name for a few moments to allow the poor girl chance to wipe her tears away before having to head up for the Sorting.

'Looks like I'm up,' Ariadne smiled, 'I'll see you later.'

'You bet.'

It had always been that way between them. For a long while, he had considered her more like a sister than anything else. He had even managed to garner himself a bit of a reputation as something of a lovable rogue - love 'em and leave 'em type - among the female students of Hogwarts in the meantime.

But there had always been something special about Ariadne. She couldn't have been more of an antithesis to her brother. It was as though all the good things had been portioned to her, leaving everything negative, sinister and miserable to him. She had been sorted into Gryffindor, just like the Marauders; she was warm, sensitive, caring, generous, though she did share Snape's talent for Potions and Herbology.

But it wasn't until their fifth year that Sirius began to look at her in a whole new light.

In those few years, she had blossomed from beneath the overwhelming shadow of her brother; from a slightly awkward, shy little girl to an almost-sixteen-year-old beauty with the most glossy black hair and the deepest green eyes he had ever seen in his life. Their teasing and boisterousness gradually began to give way to something much deeper and during the summer holidays that year, just after they had both turned sixteen, Sirius realised that he had fallen in love.

Neither of their parents approved of their offspring's choices. Sirius' overbearing mother had screeched and bellowed all over the house for days when she had heard her son was planning on dropping out of Hogwarts when she had always wanted him to finish his N.E.W.T's before moving on to keep up the family tradition of extolling the virtues of the Dark Arts to anyone and everyone who would listen. Ariadne's parents wanted her to have nothing more to do with a boy who had such little regard for his mother's wishes, not to mention the fact they simply didn't believe that he was good enough or ambitious enough to join the Snape dynasty. Ariadne had never been as popular with her parents as her brother anyway, something that Sirius could identify closely with too, and eventually, they both decided that they'd had enough of being nothing but constant disappointments.

Perhaps it hadn't helped much that Ariadne and Sirius had run away together that summer, going to stay with James' parents while they made plans to start their own witchcraft school on some deserted island in the Pacific, found a Quidditch team, be the first people to fly to the moon on a broomstick and other such equally ridiculous ideas that you are prone to believe in when you're sixteen. When they'd come to realise that such dreams were exactly that, sense had dawned and Sirius had bought his own place with the money his Uncle Alphard had left him and for a while, Ariadne had stayed with him while they both finished their N.E.W.T's at Hogwarts.

She had always been destined for bigger and better things though and had soon developed itchy feet after they had left school. She had managed to secure a place at Durmstrang's extremely prestigious graduate programme and had spent a couple of years researching advanced extraction methods for oils from some medicinal herb that Sirius could never remember the name of. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do to let her go. They both figured that it would be a test for them - if they could survive such a prolonged absence from each other, then they could survive anything.

How ironic that all seemed now.

Despite their best intentions, Sirius had lost touch with her as both their lives had developed in their own way, but he had been pleased for her when he had heard that she'd accepted a position with the Ministry's research and development branch. His own path had taken him in a slightly less structured direction.

He had fought tirelessly against the rising forces of the Dark Lord for almost six years within the Ministry's intelligence services, alongside his old school friends James, Remus and Lily. He'd also been a member of the original Order of the Phoenix and had even spent some very uncomfortable, but thankfully short, time spying on the Death Eaters.

A lot of good all those years of service and sacrifice had done him when he had been accused of murdering his friend - and twelve innocent people - in cold blood.

Thinking back, even at that time though, Peter Pettigrew had been reluctant to do anything practical to move against Voldemort's dark forces. Of course, now Sirius understood why. But it was towards the end of that period, just before Lily and James had died, that he had met up with Ariadne again.

In a bookstore, of all places. She had been browsing through the Herbology section while Sirius had been more concerned with trying to get the young witch behind the counter to knock a couple of sickles off '_The_ _Fastest Racing Brooms Ever'_ in his own charming, inimitable way. He had felt something stir deep within him; something ancient, something long since buried but something extremely powerful when he had noticed her. She'd had something of the old affection in her eyes too, and he couldn't understand how she could possibly have grown so much more beautiful in the four years they had been apart.

They had gone for a cup of coffee together that had turned into an extended lunch that turned into an even longer dinner. They had never talked for so long about everything and nothing - work, Voldemort, Hogwarts, old friends, old times…old loves. Perhaps it had always been fated, perhaps it had been a last attempt to see if what they'd had together had survived the past few years…whatever it was, they had found themselves back at Sirius' home as though drawn there like magnets towards an invisible power; a power so great, so overwhelming that neither of them even tried to resist it.

What they had shared together that night had been more than special. Something within them both had somehow connected and bound them together in a way that most people would never understand. He had fallen in love with her again more quickly and more deeply than before and when she had told him that she still loved him too, everything else that had ever been important in his life just melted away into the background of a landscape where she was the sole source of light and life. They had spent several weeks together, almost forgetting about the first war that was raging on their doorsteps with the Dark Lord.

Until Voldemort had begun to seek out individuals - James, Lily and their newborn son, Harry. Nothing could have prompted Sirius more quickly into action than that, breaking him out of the bubble of false security in which he had cocooned himself. He had practically forgotten that Ariadne had existed when James and Lily had asked him to be their Secret-Keeper. He hadn't confided that information to Ariadne for very good reasons, but it meant that she couldn't understand why he had just run out on her the way he had. He didn't answer her owls, he never tried sending any to her and he never called round at her flat to explain.

The next she had heard about him was from the gossip in Diagon Alley the day after James and Lily had been killed. There was talk about how he had always been a bit too confident for his own good; how he had been seen at the Potters' home just minutes after it had been blown to pieces; how he must always have been a Death Eater and how he had betrayed his best friends to the Dark Lord before hunting down Pettigrew and killing him too.

Despite his reticence and his long, unexplained disappearance, Ariadne had refused to believe that the man she had known and loved since she'd been eleven years old could possibly be responsible for such a horrific crime. She certainly hadn't believed that he would ever have joined Lord Voldemort. She had been the sole voice of defence in his corner. She had written to the Ministry and _The Daily Prophet _after hearing about his very public arrest_, _appealing for his right to a trial or, at the very least, a fair hearing; she had been unafraid of voicing her support for him and demonstrating her unwavering, unshakable belief that he had not been responsible for the things of which he had been accused.

It was only after months of badgering the Ministry with more owls than they received usually received in twenty years that eventually, they conceded to allow her to see him.

Her visits had been his one source of light in those days. He remembered the pity in her eyes; her tears; her disbelief that such a thing could have happened - to _all_ of them; her incredulity at the Ministry's point blank refusal to even so much as listen to anything he had to say in his defence, citing the discovery of Pettigrew's finger as all the evidence they needed to see. All they wanted was to lock him away in the deepest, darkest hole they could find and forget that he had ever even existed, as though that could finally shut out the last remaining traces of Voldemort forever.

It had crushed him to see how desperately she had tried to help him and how vociferously and consistently she was being ground down and ignored. Part of him almost wanted her to stop visiting him so that he wouldn't have to see her pain, but there was also a part of him that _needed_ to see her in the way that fish need the ocean or birds need the wind that carries them.

She had continued to visit him for the first few months, until the Dementors had stopped all visitors to Azkaban. Besides, Ariadne had suffered so much for her vocal and active support of him that the wizarding community had shunned her, making it virtually impossible for her to get the supplies she had needed to continue her research. Not long after that, the Ministry had fired her and had just stopped short of accusing her of being in league with You-Know-Who herself. Even Remus had distrusted her, lost as he was in his own unfathomable grief over Lily and James as well as his bitter anger with Sirius. Rejected and abandoned by everyone she had ever regarded as a friend and disillusioned by the futility of her efforts to help him, she had written to Sirius to tell him that she had decided to return to the quiet hillsides of the Lake District, to the home her godmother had left her in her will - the only place where she felt she belonged anymore. She had promised to write to him every single day, and for a short while she had, but the Dementors even stopped the owls. They didn't want the inmates to experience even that small light of hope.

That's when he had truly given up.

He was going to be in that cell for the rest of his life. There was no one left to help him. No one who cared. No one who would ever believe what he had to say. No one who even wanted to remember him. He was nothing more than a horrific memory to be buried in the past and forgotten. It was all over.

In that moment of realisation, his despair had been absolute and it had been the one and only time during those entire twelve years that he had wept.

Sirius had kept every one of her letters. He had hidden them beneath his tattered prison robes, safe from discovery by the Dementors, but he had reluctantly been forced to leave them behind when he had escaped. He had regretted that bitterly over the course of the year he spent at the Shrieking Shack, but now he realised that perhaps they had already served their full purpose. They had kept him alive, kept his hope burning during his darkest moments.

But he wasn't in the dark anymore.

Those letters were never going to be needed again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review - you've warmed this tired old writer's heart :-) I've changed the listing following a suggestion - this story is very definitely AU, though hopefully for the most part the characters are recognisable ;-)**

**3**

After almost an hour of soaking, with the water growing cold and his skin beginning to shrivel like a dried fig, Sirius dragged himself from the tub, dried himself and pulled on the clean clothes and black boots. Sliding his wand into the in-built holster in the belt, he ran a comb through his hair, leaving his longer fringe to fall jaggedly over his eyes. Ariadne had always liked it that way. Another few charms to clean and mend his broken, rotten teeth and he looked almost as good as new. A few pounds in added weight, and maybe the old Sirius really would be back. He just hoped that this would be good enough for her to be able to recognise enough of the man she had once cared so much about to hold off on throwing him out; at least for a while.

When he went back downstairs and through to the cosy little kitchen/dining room, he was amazed to see the effort that Ariadne had gone to for him. The antique-pine table was spread with toast, jams of every possible flavour, butter, sausages, bacon, fried and scrambled eggs, tomatoes, fried potatoes, coffee and fruit juices.

'Merlin,' he grinned, feeling as though he'd just walked into the fabric of a dream, 'I don't know what to say.'

'I thought you might be hungry,' she said with a twinkle in her eye as she took in this new, cleaner version of him. She had changed from her witch's robes into a more comfortable - and more Muggle - jeans and a pale blue shirt that was tied at the waist; a gold clip now pinned her long hair away from her face. He swallowed thickly as his gaze darted away from her, stunned into muted awe with how quickly, and how easily, she could still take his breath away.

'I'm absolutely starving. You're amazing, Ari. Thank you.'

She smiled. 'You're very welcome.'

'What about Buckbeak? Is he okay?'

'He's fine. You don't want to know what I gave him to eat, but he'll be okay for a couple of days at least. I cleaned up the old watermill pump house at the edge of the pool, laid some hay down, and he was curled up in there asleep when I left him.'

'Good…I'm glad. Thank you.'

'He's really very sweet. Such a good-natured animal. So what did he do, that the Ministry's after him?'

'You remember Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?'

'How could I forget?' she said darkly, leaning back against the sink, folding her arms across her chest. 'He was still strutting around as though he owns the Ministry and everyone in it, the last I heard. Jumped up little - '

'Well, his son takes after him. Thought it would be clever to insult a hippogriff. Buckbeak didn't take kindly to it and responded by taking a chunk out of his arm.'

'Ah,' she nodded, 'and the poor hippogriff got the blame for it.'

'Needless to say, with Lucius' influence at the Ministry, the poor thing never had a chance. Got sentenced to death - ' Ariadne took a sharp, horrified little breath, ' - but Harry saved him. We both needed to get about as far away from Hogwarts as it's possible to get, so we helped each other out. Beaky saved my life, I saved his and now we're sort of a team, I suppose. I've grown quite fond of him.'

'I'm just glad that you're both okay. And that you put one over on Lucius Malfoy. I bet he was spitting sparks.'

'Oh, I really hope so,' Sirius grinned, 'I only wish I could have been there to see it.'

Satisfied that Buckbeak was happy and settled, he felt able to relax and take some time for himself. He sat down and piled his plate with just about everything that would fit onto it and started shovelling the food ravenously into his mouth. Ariadne smiled as she watched him, probably glad to see that her culinary magical skills were being very much appreciated. They spoke little while they ate, content with each other's company and the silence between them, broken only by the muted music in the background from the enchanted radio that stood on the old Welsh-style dresser behind them.

When they were finished, Ariadne waved her wand over the sink to start the washing up and then over the percolator, which immediately began to hiss and smoke as it made more coffee.

'That was wonderful,' said Sirius, leaning back into the creaking wooden chair as the dishes clattered in the background. 'I don't think I've eaten so well in…god…thirteen years. Such a long time when you say it, isn't it?'

She smiled sadly, shaking her head as she looked at him. Her own private pains endured through those years accumulated to cross her face like a dark rain cloud passing the sun on the brightest of summer's days. 'I never stopped thinking about you, you know,' she said quietly, her fingers absently following the swirls of the knots in the wooden table. 'Actually, I can't remember a moment when I didn't think about you…how you were coping. Silly little things really. If you were eating properly. If you were warm enough. If you were sleeping. If the Dementors really were as bad as everyone said they were. If you were...lonely. It came close to breaking my heart to see that look on your face the last time I saw you…knowing that it was the _last_ time.' She laughed softly, although there was no humour in it. 'I had no idea how much I could miss you.'

He nodded somewhat sullenly, his gaze dropping to his empty plate, unsure of the feelings that were being stirred by her declaration. It had been so long since he'd felt anything but anxiety, fear and loneliness. And he was afraid of what was now replacing them.

'I know that it can't have been easy for you, Sirius. I really did try my best to get someone…_anyone_…to listen to me. Even Remus treated me like I was something he'd scraped off the bottom of a cauldron, but I kept trying for as long as I - '

'I know,' he said softly. 'It's all right.'

'No, it's not. It's far from all right. What you've been through is...horrific. So damned unfair. They didn't even give you a chance to defend yourself in a trial. It was barbaric…just…_insane_…and it has been so damn frustrating trying to get someone to see beyond the circumstantial claptrap that the Ministry drummed up against you. Lies and half truths and - '

He could hear the suffering in her voice and it was more than he could bear to listen to it. 'I have nothing but the deepest of admiration and gratitude for everything you tried to do for me, Ariadne. I know I didn't deserve it, just taking off the way I did with no reason or excuse. You have nothing to reproach yourself for and you certainly don't have to offer me explanations. I understand how bad things have been for you. I wish I could have done something to save you from it.'

She sighed as she poured herself more coffee and slowly raised the cup to her lips. 'I did it because I wanted to. Because I believed in you. It…it hurt, Sirius…it really did…to see you so lost, so frightened. Even now, even after everything I've put up with, I don't regret it - not for a single second - and I'd do it all over again because I know that whatever hardships I've endured are nothing compared to what you must have been through.' She reached across the table and grasped his hand, tenderly rubbing her thumb back and forth over his roughened skin, 'I am so sorry that I wasn't more welcoming when you came here and I'm sorry that I asked you to leave. I'm glad you're here, Sirius.'

He was afraid to respond for fear that the emotions choking at the back of his throat might break free. His eyes had filled with tears and he blinked them back as he turned his hand over beneath hers and gripped her fingers.

She moved to a chair beside him, bringing her other hand to his cheek, gently caressing his face. 'When I heard that you'd broken out, I kept hoping that maybe you would come. I waited and waited - '

'I wanted to come. I really did…but I was so afraid for Harry. I had to protect him. When I heard that Voldemort had made two attempts already to come back and that Pettigrew was hiding so close, in such a dangerous position for him to attack - '

'I know. I understand. You did what you had to do, Sirius. I just wish I'd known. I could have helped you. Maybe I could have gone to Dumbledore and explained…or to Harry…even to Remus.'

'I didn't want you to be hurt anymore than you already have because of me.' He looked up at her, into her eyes as her fingers moved from his face to his hair and around to the back of his neck. 'I didn't know what to expect when I broke out. I wasn't thinking properly. I wasn't even sure you'd want to see me. What if the Dementors had come for you, or the Ministry? If they'd arrested you because they thought you were helping me, I could never have forgiven myself.'

'And what if anything had happened to you? If you'd…if the Dementors...no one would ever have known that you were innocent. The hope that one day I might see you again would have been lost and…'

He had no reply to give so he merely bowed his head and closed his eyes as he gripped her fingers tighter.

'I still love you, Sirius,' she whispered as she leaned towards him and touched a tender kiss to his forehead.

Embarrassed by her own tears, she pulled him to his feet, drew him close and held him as though she were afraid he would disappear if she let him go.

It was the first time in as long as he could remember that he had felt the warmth and comfort of human contact and it felt like the first drops of rain on the hottest of summer days. To have someone hold him again, to feel her breath against his skin as she nestled her head into his shoulder…it was more than he could ever have dreamed of, and he found his arms slipping around her too, holding her just as tightly as his heart ached with grief at so much lost time, with regret for so many things left unsaid, with the deep yearning and intense need for her; an unbearable ache that he had lived with for far too long.

'I still love you too, Ari.' He pulled back from her briefly and just looked at her, _gazed_ at her, as though she were a perfect thing - a sunrise, an unfolding flower…_freedom_. 'You are so beautiful,' he said as he leaned forward, gently pushing the loose strands of her hair back from her face before he touched her lips with his. She responded to him instantly, pulling him closer, tighter, teasing his tongue with hers as he pressed harder against her. His hands moved up beneath her shirt, over her back, her hips and her waist, exploring her, savouring the beauty and the wonder of her; the depth, meaning and warmth that such contact with another could bring…another who loved him as much as he loved her.

'Come on,' she whispered, taking his hand and guiding him towards the stairs. He followed her silently, aching and burning with the anticipation of what was to come. He wanted her, needed her, but part of him was also beginning to feel the pinch of fear. To allow himself to care again, to be loved again...to lose it all again would kill him this time. Perhaps it would be simpler to never risk it...

Perhaps he had been wrong to come here. He had been selfish, putting his own needs above hers…

'You will stay, won't you?' she asked as they climbed the stairs, as though somehow she could detect something of his thoughts. She stopped him outside the bedroom. 'Because I don't think I could do this and lose you again, Sirius.'

He just smiled in response as he pushed the door open for her, guiding her towards the four-poster bed in silence. He laid her down on top of the hand-made patchwork quilt and kissed her deeply. 'I'm not going anywhere without you, Ari,' he murmured. 'I won't let anyone hurt us again.'

She slipped free of her shirt and interlaced her fingers with his as he began dusting kisses along her collarbone towards the hollow of her neck. 'Is that a promise?'

'It's far more than a promise.'

Ariadne smiled as she reached for him, caressing his cheek, encouraging him closer to her lips that were hungry for him again. 'Then let's not waste any more time with words.'

It was late afternoon when Sirius came down to check on Buckbeak. He needn't have worried. Buckbeak seemed perfectly content in the pump house and was still fast asleep, surrounded by the bloody remnants of whatever it was Ariadne had given him. Relieved that his unintentional neglect hadn't been noticed, he returned to the house, crept upstairs to avoid waking Ariadne, and retrieved his prison rags from the bathroom. He took them back downstairs, piled them together on the garden path, pointed his wand at them and spat, _'Incendio_.'

The satisfaction he felt as he watched those clothes vaporising into flame and smoke was almost comparable to having escaped from Azkaban in the first place. He sat down on the large slab of Welsh slate that formed the front doorstep as the flames finally died down, enjoying the fresh air, the golden glint of sunlight on the lake through the trees, the taste of freedom, and something else that he hadn't felt in such a long time.

_Happiness_.

He heard Ariadne descending the stairs behind him and turned to see her as she was tying the belt across her silken dressing gown. She smiled when her eyes caught his and took his hand as he reached for her. He pulled her down beside him, slipped his arms around her waist and pushed a kiss into her hair as she leaned against him.

'I was wondering where you'd gone,' she said softly. 'Got yourself a nice fire going though, I see. Your prison clothes?'

He nodded, his hand moving slowly over her back. 'I needed some air and I didn't want to disturb you. I couldn't sleep. I still feel a bit claustrophobic indoors. Panicky…you know. Feel the walls closing in around me.'

'I understand. It's going to take some time. You have to be patient with yourself.'

'I'm not a patient man,' he sighed. 'I want my life back, Ari. I _need_ it. For us. For Harry. I have to find Pettigrew. That little bastard is the reason that Lily and James are dead and he's going to pay for what he's done. It's the only way we can get back everything that was taken from us. He's the one piece of evidence that can prove I'm innocent and I can't let him go. I won't.'

'No-one can understand how you feel more than I do, but I really think you should take some time. You need to get used to life out here again, doing things as you want to, when you want to. Pettigrew has in all likelihood gone into hiding now and you're not in a position to go looking for him. Or to present evidence to anyone. No one is going to listen to you, Sirius. Hell, I doubt whether anyone would listen to me either.'

'They'd listen to Dumbledore. He promised me when I spoke to him that he would try to do what he could. They have to listen to someone, Ariadne. I need to believe that or there's no point to anything. Why did I risk everything? Why do I even bother trying to hope that there might be some way - '

'Hey now,' she said, turning to him as she reached up to touch his cheek, 'there's no place here for defeatism. You and me…we have something that's worth fighting for, Sirius. We always did. All I meant was that we have to be careful how we go about this. And I think I may have an idea.'

He blinked slowly and sighed, glancing upwards through the gap in the trees to the pale blue sky above them. Sunlight dappled her face and shifted over the whispering grass around them like gently rippling water. It had been so long since he'd been this happy…he had tasted it now…he had experienced just a touch of what his life could be. He couldn't let fear hold him back now. He'd come too far.

'Let's hear it then.'

'You're absolutely sure about this?'

Sirius was leaning against the corner of her wardrobe, arms folded, as she gathered together some of her clothes into a travelling case that seemed too small for everything she was trying to put into it.

'I'm as sure as I can be,' she replied, holding up a set of purple and black robes, deciding eventually on the black. 'I'm halfway there by most people's standards anyway.'

'That's not the point and you know it. Ari, sweetheart, I think you've been here alone for too long. Just because Voldemort is weak now, that doesn't mean that - '

'Look, just hand me that make-up box over there.'

Sirius rolled his eyes, but passed her the matchbox-sized shiny black case from her dressing table.

'Ari, I'm worried about you. I don't think this is a risk you should be taking.'

She closed the case, stubbornly ignoring him as she muttered, '_Locomotor Trunk,_' to move it downstairs.

'Ariadne…please…' he persisted all the way down the stairs and into the hallway, 'I really don't think this is a good idea.'

She dropped the case to the floor, glanced at her reflection in the mirror and said, '_Sursum_,' as she tapped her hair with her wand. Her tangle of jet-black hair became sleek and glossy, twisting itself up into a neat French roll. 'There. Much better.'

'Ari, can't we think about this again? There has to be - '

She turned around and silenced him with a finger against his lips. He sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat against her indefatigable resolution.

'You just need to take care of yourself and Buckbeak. You'll both be fine here. I've placed a disillusionment enchantment on the house and the garden up to the watermill. As long as you stay within its borders, you'll both be safe. You have your wand, so you'll be alright for food and everything else that you or Buckbeak might need.'

'Except you.'

Ariadne face softened as her fingers moved from his lips to his cheek.

'You're still too damned handsome for your own good, you know.' She kissed him tenderly.

His arms moved around her waist, and he held her as though he would never see her again.

'Don't go,' he whispered. 'Please. This is too dangerous. You don't even really know them anymore. There has to be another way.'

'Maybe there is, but we don't have the luxury of time. This is the quickest and simplest way. Peter will never show himself otherwise,' she replied, but there was something in her tone that betrayed her doubts. 'Just promise me that you'll stay here.'

'I will.'

'That's not good enough. I know you, I know how much you hate being pinned down. I mean it, Sirius. For this to work, you must stay here. If you promise me, I know you won't break your word. No Marauder nonsense, no animagus tricks either because Peter would have told You-Know-Who by now.'

'All right,' he sighed, 'I promise.'

She hugged him again.

'But if you get into any kind of trouble, you walk, do you hear me? Contact either Dumbledore or Remus - he should be back at his place on Dartmoor by now. They're the only ones you can trust. But I would like you to let me know what's happening. Under no circumstances should you go to your brother. _You _promise _me_.'

'Alright, I promise. I suppose that's only fair. What makes you think I'd want to talk to him anyway? He couldn't even bring himself to look at me the last time we met.'

'Ooh…I don't know,' he grinned, although she couldn't see him. 'Maybe it's because you seem to have a soft spot for men who are about as popular as a Venomous Tentacular.'

'Correction: Only the _cute_ ones who are as popular as a Venomous Tentacular. And anyway, he's my brother, so I wouldn't worry if I were you.'

Sirius laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she moved back from him.

'I love you, Sirius Black.'

'I love you too, Ari. Please take care of yourself.'

She nodded, her eyes shimmering as her thumb brushed across his lips one last time. She quickly bewitched her trunk again and put her wand away in a holster beneath her flowing robes.

There was a crack like a whip as she apparated and then, she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Hogsmeade was bustling with life as people finishing work were hurrying about trying to get whatever it was they needed before the shops closed for the day. The only place that was still quiet was the Three Broomsticks pub, which had just opened up for the evening. Ariadne threaded her way through the crowds, keeping her head down, hidden beneath her hooded cloak, even though it must still have been thirty-five degrees outside. Her eyes were pinned to the cobblestones so that she wouldn't have to see the poison-studded looks she would be getting if someone recognised her and she managed to reach the pub without a single acerbic comment, which was something of a personal achievement for her.

Ariadne ordered herself a large Firewhisky, took off her cloak and secreted herself into a booth at the back of the dark, smoky, slightly musty smelling pub, which afforded her views of both the door and the bar. Madame Rosmerta finally recognised her as she brought her drink over. She bumped it down hard against the table, splashing most of it over the coaster.

'Ten sickles,' she snapped, the scowl on her face only marginally more sour than the drink.

'Your prices seem to have inflated somewhat since I was last here, Rosmerta,' Ariadne replied coolly, scattering the coins onto the table, 'but I'll pay it. From the look on this place, I'd say you could use the profits. Go treat yourself…get your hair done. While you're at it, that hair on your chin needs plucking too.'

Rosmerta scowled even more deeply, snatching up the coins. 'Drink that quickly, Snape. We don't welcome your kind in here.'

Ariadne just smiled infuriatingly, raising the glass to her as she went back to the bar.

At least she had managed to get herself served, which was far more than most of the other traders in Hogsmeade were willing to do. She sipped the Firewhisky and trained her gaze back on the door.

Ariadne had been prepared to sit there for most of the night, although she did have her doubts as to whether her sickles would hold out at Rosmerta's new price hike for suspected Death-Eaters. As it turned out, her target appeared just half an hour after she had arrived.

Lucius Malfoy blew through the doors like a hurricane, pausing in the doorway as though waiting for some kind of royal reception. Realising he wasn't going to get one, he moved to the bar to order something for himself and his wife, Narcissa, who had taken to one of the booths closer to the door. Rosmerta would never have dared to show open hostility to the Malfoys, even though they were widely suspected to still have Dark Arts connections too. She probably knew that Lucius had sufficient wealth to buy anything or anyone he wanted, not to mention the connections he maintained within the wizarding community that even Fudge himself envied. Malfoy could have a small, insignificant little place like the Three Broomsticks closed down quicker than Rosmerta could have said 'Butterbeer', and she knew that perfectly well, so she fixed her smile on her face and even made pleasant small talk with him as she served him.

The discrimination should have annoyed Ariadne, but she really didn't care much what a bartender thought of her anyway. She didn't know which were worst - false niceties or honest hostility.

Ariadne grabbed her drink and went over to the Malfoys' booth.

'Narcissa!' she smiled hollowly as she slid herself into the seat beside her. 'It's good to see you again. It's been, what, twelve years? I see the passage of the years have been _tolerably_ kind to you. Considering.'

Mrs Malfoy looked up at her with one perfectly-plucked eyebrow raised, as though she were regarding a lower form of pond life. 'Well, well…Ariadne Snape,' she said, each slowly drawled word an icicle. 'I was under the impression that you'd retreated to life in a cave somewhere since your unceremonious dismissal from the Ministry.' She made a point of raising her voice quite unnecessarily for her last pronouncement. 'What brings you back to civilisation?'

'Now, Cissy, that's hardly a charitable way to greet an old friend. Whatever happened to plain old _'How are you_?''

Narcissa's thin lips pursed into a malicious mockery of a smile. 'It is generally assumed, _dear_, when one asks that question, that one cares how a person is feeling. As I feel no such concern for you, why on earth would you presume I should I ask?'

'Ooh…ouch,' Ariadne gasped, clasping her hand to her chest in feigned horror. 'You know, Narcissa, you're lucky I'm not a sensitive person or you might have just hurt my feelings. Then, I'm afraid, I might have been forced to curse you.'

Narcissa's thin, bony fingers flashed towards her wand concealed in her robes. 'Why don't you just try?'

Ariadne smiled and backed off. 'I wouldn't want you to feel inadequate or foolish. But we can always save it for later, if you like.'

'Ah…Ariadne,' said Lucius, arriving at the table with drinks for himself and his wife. 'How...pleasant to see you.'

Maybe she was mistaken, but she could have sworn that Narcissa almost breathed a sigh of relief when he came. Perhaps it was just as well for Ariadne's sake, too - she might have excelled at Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but duelling just wasn't her forte. She would probably have ended up hexed six ways from Sunday if she _had _attacked Narcissa. But as Narcissa hadn't known that, Ariadne chalked the encounter up as a score for herself.

Ariadne and Narcissa had never exactly been on good terms with each other ever since Narcissa found out that Lucius once had developed quite an attraction to the young Ariadne while they had still been at Hogwarts. Of course, Ariadne had been far too involved with Sirius to have ever looked at someone like Lucius, coolly attractive though he might have been. And still was, in a dark sort of way. But Narcissa had, for some reason, always felt a little threatened by Ariadne, particularly during their latter years at Hogwarts, and for a while afterwards, when Lucius had begun to spend so much time at the Snape family home with Severus.

Even when Ariadne had left home to live with Sirius, Narcissa had still made her dislike of Ariadne more than plain. Ariadne was beginning to discover that some petty, childish jealousies survived the passage of time as well as some of the more positive feelings. It was, perhaps, just as well that Ariadne cared as little for Narcissa's opinions as she did for the woman herself.

Lucius, however, was still an unknown quantity.

'I always said that you had to be up early in the morning to catch out a razor sharp intellect like yours, Lucius. I was just telling your wife how lucky she is.'

'Indeed?' he sneered, sliding into the seat beside Narcissa. 'Well, now you can tell her goodbye. This is a two person, private conversation.'

'That's a shame. Because what I had to say I thought that you, or at least your…_associates_…might find interesting.'

'Really?' Lucius said, sipping his Firewhisky. 'And just what might that be?'

'Are you sure it's alright for us to speak here?'

Narcissa rolled her eyes and squeezed the stem of the glass holding her Gillywater so hard that it was a wonder it didn't crack.

'I'm sure,' Lucius replied, leaning forward across the table, but he muttered an Imperturbable charm all the same. Instantly, it was as though their whole table were cocooned in a bubble. It was a curious sensation, like being underwater. 'Make it fast, Ariadne.'

'What would your associates say if I was to offer your organisation the services of a Ministry-approved, and highly talented, herbologist and potions master?'

Malfoy inclined his head thoughtfully, his perfectly straight, well-groomed white-blonde hair falling forward over his shoulder. 'Our _organisation_? I'm not sure I understand what you mean. I am part of no organisation other than the governing body of Hogwarts.'

'Oh come on, Lucius. Who do you think you're dealing with here? Do you think I've enjoyed being on the fringes of society for all these years? Being ousted from my own life, betrayed by people I thought were friends, accused of being something I wasn't? What benefits could I possibly have by remaining where I am? I'm tired of it all. I want my life back. I want in, Lucius. I want to be a part of the glory the Dark Lord is offering. I want to make all those people who've made my life hell to pay. A thousand fold.'

A thin, vicious smile spread slowly across Malfoy's face, but it never touched his eyes. It was a cold, cruel smile, one born solely of hate. But for once, he was smiling with her, looking at her with a flicker of something in his eyes that made her shiver.

'What makes you think that the organisation, assuming of course that there is one, would have need of such services?'

'You were betrayed by the man who last held that post. He was weak and pathetic, full of fear. I am not. I am willing to give my life for the second coming of the Dark Lord, if I can make those people pay first. You and I both know, Lucius, that no-one has skills in both herbology and potion-making as I do. The Dark Lord is still interested in conquering death, is he not? He still uses poisons? I could help him, Lucius.'

Narcissa was sipping her Gillywater with a new, deeper loathing for Ariadne creeping across her bird-like features. Lucius himself had leaned back in his chair and had reached for his Firewhisky again. He took a long, slow drink before lowering the glass back to the table as he licked the last traces of the whisky from his lips. He sighed, smiling to himself as he turned the glass around in his hand before picking it up again.

'So what would be in this for you, Ariadne?' he asked, in between sips. 'Aside from revenge, of course?'

'It's something very small really. For a man with such influence as you have in the Ministry. I want Sirius Black's name cleared.'

Malfoy almost choked on his Firewhisky. 'You know where he is? You've seen him?'

'I didn't say that. All I can tell you is that he feels exactly the same as I do about the fools who have cost him the past twelve years of his life. He could be useful to the Dark Lord, Lucius. If his name was cleared, he could get close to Potter. He could infiltrate Hogwarts. Just imagine the advantages that both of us could offer. Neither of us have a life anymore. Everything we had has been destroyed, ripped apart by the Potters and their kind. The only chance we have is with your organisation. The Dark Lord could have no more loyal followers than us.' She leaned closer to him until their faces were mere inches apart, much to Narcissa's barely contained fury. Ariadne smiled, her eyes flickering seductively from Lucius' eyes to his thin lips, gazing at them as though she would like nothing better than to feel them against her own. 'Think about it, Lucius. You know it makes sense. We would owe him our lives. And I, of course, would be forever in your…_debt_.'

Malfoy smiled as he leaned back, finished his drink and set the glass back down on the table. He carefully wiped the edges of his mouth with his gloved fingers and cast a brief glance around at the bar. Aside from themselves and Rosmerta, the bar had only two other tired and rather old looking wizards slumped in the window booth looking as though they were half asleep.

Satisfied that they were unobserved and safe for the moment, Lucius pulled out a piece of parchment from an inside pocket of his robes and detached his wand from the end of his silver tipped walking cane. He touched the wand to the parchment then quickly secreted it back into its holder.

'Be at this address at ten tonight. Sharp. We will discuss this matter further then.'

Ariadne reached across the table for the parchment. It was the address of an old cemetery in mid Wales. She didn't know it specifically, but she knew the area. That would be good enough to allow her to Apparate.

'I'll be there.'

Malfoy nodded and extended his hand across the table to her. She accepted it, making sure she maintained his eye contact as they shook hands. His index finger stroked her skin and a smile flickered briefly on his face before he released her.

'Later then,' he said, indicating with an almost imperceptible nod of his head for Narcissa to follow him.

They left The Three Broomsticks only a few seconds before Ariadne did herself, but by the time she got outside, they had already disappeared.

She braced herself against the wall, overcome by a sudden wave of extremely unpleasant nausea at the thought of what she had just done...how he had touched her…how she had looked at him. Her hands were shaking a little too, but as she breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes briefly to compose herself, the feelings soon dissipated. She shoved her hands deep into the long folds of her cloak - even though it was still far from cold - and found a quiet corner behind Dervish and Bangs to Apparate back to the room she had rented, under a false identity, at a Muggle hotel in London not too far from the Leaky Cauldron.

She had specifically chosen this bed-and-breakfast hotel because she had known that most of the rooms were decorated in an Olde-World type style that still had fireplaces in most of the rooms and there were no wizarding folk around who may have noticed her presence and asked awkward questions. She threw off her cloak, conjured herself a cup of elderflower tea and pulled out a small, ornate silver case from her trunk. Gathering a handful of Floo powder from inside it, she cast it into the fireplace and called, 'Padfoot!'

Barely a few seconds later, Sirius' head was floating in a halo of green flames where the fire should have been.

'It's so good to see you,' she beamed at him, kneeling down in front of the hearth.

'You too. Are you all right?'

'I'm fine. I just wanted to tell you that everything is going to plan. I'm meeting them again tonight.'

Sirius' concern was etched into his face, but he tried not to let it creep into his voice. 'Where?'

'I don't think I should say over the network. You never know who might be listening. What about you? Is everything okay there?'

Sirius smiled ruefully. 'As well as could be expected. I've kept myself busy writing to…well…you know to whom…just to let him know that I'm all right. There were a few things that I didn't have the chance to tell him before I…well...I just didn't want him to worry about me.'

'You haven't told him where you are though?'

'No…no, of course I haven't. But a man has to do something to keep himself occupied.'

'There are plenty of books on the dresser in the living room if you're bored. Try polishing up some of your charms and hexes. You'll be needing them.'

'I suppose,' he said morosely, 'one day.'

'Hey, maybe you should try Cheering Charms first.'

'I'm sorry. I am trying. I miss you.'

'I'm missing you, too,' she said softly. 'Look, I'll contact you again later when I get back. I promise. In the meantime, try and stay out of trouble.'

'Are you sure that you can trust him?' he persisted. 'What if it's a trap? What if - '

'Then I'll handle it. Trust me, would you? I don't know what's gotten into you, you never used to be so wary of taking risks.'

'Yeah, when _I'm _taking them. Not when people I care about are.'

She shook her head in exasperation. 'I have to go now. I have to get changed and prepared for tonight. I will contact you, I promise. Try not to worry, hey?'

'Yeah,' he sighed, 'all right. I'll wait up until I hear from you.'

'That would be nice. I'd like to see you afterwards. I love you, you know. Very much.'

The tension vaporised from his face for the first time in the whole conversation and his smile was warm and sincere. 'I love you too,' he said, his voice already an echo as the fire around him flickered and died, leaving an empty, cold, silent space where he had once been.


	5. Chapter 5

I've just been looking at the traffic stats for this story, and it brought a huge smile to my face :-) This chapter is dedicated to my followers and readers from all those exotic countries that I can only hope to one day visit - you guys have started my New Year off in the best way! Thank you, sincerely :-)

**5**

The moonless night was as dark as pitch when Ariadne reached the deserted hillside overlooking the coast of the Irish Sea. The oil-black ocean moved like a malevolent colossus, roaring with all of Neptune's fury as it hurled itself against the foot of the cliffs beneath her, whipped into near frenzy by the relentless, howling wind and pelting rain. Despite the fact that it was July it was freezing, the rain driving hard against her robes until she was soaked through to the skin, shivering, her fingers and toes numb as ice. The light cast by her wand tip barely cut through the fog swirling around her as she struggled on, icy darts of rain lashing her face until she reached the cemetery. The rusted iron gate refused to budge until she had said '_Alohamora!'_ It groaned open.

The graveyard seemed deserted as she fought her way through overgrown grass, tripped over warped and twisted gravestones and had her face scratched by the brambles twisting down from the branches of the yew trees. A strange, mixed scent of damp earth, decay and metallic ozone drifted into her consciousness as she sheltered her eyes from the wind and rain with her hand and looked up, peering into the swirling, howling darkness for the ramshackle church ruin that stood on the far side of the cemetery. Beyond a scattering of family mausoleums that were at least a few hundred years old, the wan beam of her wand caught a sliver of glass that still remained in the shattered windows of the disused church and she knew that she had found what she had been looking for. Pulling her cloak closer around her, she hurried on through the terrible weather. If this was the kind of place where the Death Eaters usually met, then maybe she really would be better off rethinking their plan.

She was surprised to see the door to the church was in very good repair and even appeared to have had a fresh coat of varnish recently applied. She wondered why anyone should go to so much trouble when half the windows and most of the roof were gone, but she rapped hard on the door in any case. It clicked open almost immediately and she stepped inside, keeping her lit wand out in front of her, clutched in a trembling hand.

The porch was warm and illuminated with glowing red candles, the broken windows seemingly blocked with some kind of protective charm that not only sealed out the weather, but also the sounds of the howling wind. Ariadne's ears rang in the stark, sudden silence as she shook the rain from her robe and said, '_Dessico_,' touching the tip of her wand to her hair and her clothes to dry them.

As she pushed through the second double doorway ahead of her, she found herself in the main hall of the church, all the pews that should have covered the floor stacked up against the moss-covered walls. Instead, right in the centre of the stone floor, a large fire burned in a magical hearth, providing both the warmth and the orange-yellow light. Standing beside it were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Altair and Lyra Bulstrode, Romulus and Ophelia Crabbe, Jacob and Shana Goyle and a handful of other faces she vaguely remembered but failed to attach names to. The other two of Voldemort's most vociferous supporters, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange - the latter being a cousin of Sirius' - were, thankfully, still in Azkaban and therefore absent from the proceedings. Narcissa was positively gracious in her behaviour towards Ariadne compared to how Bellatrix would have treated her. The two had never particularly seen eye-to-eye, mostly due to Bellatrix's pure-blood mania - prejudice that Ariadne never could tolerate.

'Welcome, Ariadne,' said Malfoy, stepping forward. 'I trust the inclement weather didn't prove too much of a problem for you.'

'Not at all,' she replied. 'I would have Apparated here directly, but as I was unsure of the exact location of the church itself, I felt it might be safer to choose a spot just outside. It wouldn't do to Apparate inside a wall, now would it?'

Malfoy nodded. 'Well, now you're here, please sit.' He waved his wand behind him and several large, plush red armchairs appeared in a semi-circle beside the fire.

Ariadne crossed the stone-slab floor and took the chair closest to the fire, hoping that the heat would help to defrost her frozen limbs and keep her from shivering too much. Such a reaction may be misconstrued as fear; a reaction that would be likely to get her killed.

The others took up their places in the semi-circle and waited for Malfoy to ensure that the front door was securely locked and sealed with Imperturbable charms before he came to stand in front of them.

'Now we have all arrived, I will start by clarifying the reason for tonight's meeting. As you know, these are dangerous times for our kind. The Dark Lord is regaining his strength and will be ready to assume his proper place very soon, but as our numbers grow, so do the suspicions of the Ministry. While I am doing my utmost to deflect any such attention from myself and from all of you, nonetheless it is becoming a difficult task for me to accomplish alone.'

There was a murmur of assent from the circle. An elderly wizard that Ariadne didn't recognise sitting on the far side of the circle lit a pipe from which thick green smoke began to emanate. His was the only gaze that still lingered on her. He made her more uncomfortable than Malfoy.

'Earlier today, however, I was approached by someone who should be familiar to all of you. Her brother was once a member of our circle before he betrayed the Dark Lord to return to Dumbledore's side. She, however, assures me that she has no such affiliations and indeed has no reason to. Her life was ruined through her association with someone who fell afoul of the Ministry and she now seeks to join us. Tonight's purpose, therefore, is to induct Ariadne Snape into our circle.'

Malfoy turned to face her, holding out his hand to indicate that he wished for her to join him.

A jolt of electricity shot the length of her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach like a lead weight as she pushed up from the chair, but she nonetheless strode confidently to his side, turning to face those gathered.

'Ms Snape would like to add her herbology and potions mastery to our circle in place of her brother's. Her motivation is clear and presents many advantages to us, but before we can begin any discussions regarding this matter, she must be tested.'

Ariadne had suspected that something like this would be necessary. All the same, the nausea she had earlier felt returned to haunt her and she was infinitely glad that her wand was within easy reach beneath the folds of her robes.

Malfoy waved his own wand and another chair appeared in front of the fire, facing the Death Eaters. This one was markedly different from the plush armchairs he had produced before. It was a high-backed wooden chair with stiff arms jutting out on either side, each one with a metal cuff attached to the end. More cuffs were attached to both front legs and an iron collar stood out from its head.

Carefully watching Ariadne, he gestured to it, inviting her to take it. Swallowing thickly, she offered him a half smile of expected confidence and went to sit down. As soon as she was in place, Malfoy gently turned her left arm over so that the underside of her forearm was exposed before he waved his wand again. Instantly, the cuffs locked tight around her wrists and ankles and the iron collar snapped shut across her neck.

'The Dark Lord requires those who serve him to be marked as a sign of their loyalty and to prevent allegiance to him being denied in the face of our enemies. It is also an acknowledgement of the pain and suffering our ancestors endured at the hands of Muggles during the dark years of persecution they faced. Only when a witch, or wizard, has been burned and marked may they truly feel the need for the righteous vengeance that must be visited back a hundred fold upon the Muggle persecutors, blood traitors and their Mudblood derivatives who have so polluted our world. As our revered leader is, unfortunately, unable to be here in person, he has given me a tool which may make the mark in lieu of his wand and has entrusted this sacred ritual to me.'

Ariadne tried to move her wrists, hoping to be able to manipulate her fingers just enough to reach her wand, but she could move only a few millimetres and was unable to even turn her head away from the gathered observers to mutter a charm of protection.

When he turned to pull the red-hot brand from the fire, her heart leapt into her throat and began to pound there, choking off her air. A slab of dry sponge seemed to have replaced her tongue. He advanced towards her, the brand in one hand, the other pushing back the left sleeve of her robe.

She tried not to let the incredible wave of terror that she felt rising within her break, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on a point just above the doors at the far end of the hall. She found herself trying to picture Sirius's face, trying to remember how his arms had felt around her, how his lips had tasted after so many years of aching for him, the warmth and kindness in his smile and…

_God..._

The brand touched the soft, sensitive skin on the underside of her forearm and the pain that burst through her was like an exploding sun. Pure, white-hot agonies blistered and burnt her skin until she felt as though it was biting through to the bone; _grating_ through it. She bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood to keep the scream that was building in her throat from erupting and sweat began to flow in rivulets over her forehead and down her back. Just when she thought she would be unable to contain the cry of agony any longer, Malfoy lifted the brand and whispered a healing charm to seal in the Apparation magic as he touched the tip of his wand to her bleeding, blistered forearm. The sickening odour of singed, burnt flesh dissipated instantly and the pain was extinguished almost as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind the blackened scar of the Dark Mark on her arm.

But it was far more than just a mark. With it, she could be summoned to the Dark Lord's side in a second. He would be able to track her and observe her. He might even be able to hear her. As it was, in his weakened state, it was highly unlikely that Voldemort would be able to do anything, and that was the only reason that the anxiety she would normally have felt was kept suppressed to mere mild concern. For now, she regarded it as little more than a necessary evil. An exceedingly painful evil.

She let out a long, slow breath and looked up at Malfoy who was watching her intently, a curious mix of satisfaction and excitement on his face.

'Did I pass?' she whispered, fixing him with a cold and determined stare.

A wan, thin smile flickered on his face and he tilted his head forward almost imperceptibly.

'Do you swear eternal allegiance to the Dark Lord, under penalty of the Dementors Kiss?'

'The Dementors?' The question had already slipped from her lips before she'd had time to consider that some of the fear that had rippled through her in that instant might have leaked into her voice.

Malfoy had been about to ask her again, but his mouth snapped shut. He regarded her carefully through narrowed eyes.

'Are you not aware of the oath?'

'Of course I am. Death has always been the penalty, Malfoy.'

'Perhaps. At one time. Now, since the Ministry's exceptionally poor treatment of the faithful and long-time servants of Azkaban subsequent to Sirius Black's escape, the Dementors feel understandably aggrieved and have thus consented to join the ranks of the Dark Lord's new army. Any witch or wizard who betrays us now will suffer the penalty of the Dementors' Kiss, something far worse than death. Does this pose a problem for you?'

She smiled, glancing from Malfoy to the rest of the assembly. 'Of course not. Why would it? Only those who plan to betray the Dark Lord need worry. I pledge my allegiance, Malfoy.'

Another murmur of acquiescence went around the circle as Malfoy waved his wand. The restraints disappeared and when she stood up, the chair vanished too.

'The Dark Lord bids you welcome to the Death Eaters,' he said, shaking her hand.

There was a brief round of applause, then the rest of those gathered stood to shake the hand of the latest recruit to their number. Ariadne behaved just as she should have; congratulating Lyra Bulstrode on the successful _Imperitus_ curse she had placed on another high ranking member of the Ministry last week; commiserating with Walden Macnair on his being prevented from administering the punishment to Buckbeak that he had been so looking forward to; encouraging Ophelia Crabbe in her efforts to convert her sister and her family into the Death Eaters.

She stood there and socialised with murderers and torturers for at least an hour, gradually feeling sicker and sicker before Malfoy relieved her suffering and took her by the arm, whisking her away to a quiet corner of the church beside the ancient, cracked stone altar.

'You did well tonight, Ariadne,' he told her. 'You've impressed a lot of people who aren't easy to impress. Many wizards and witches greater than you have wept as the mark was administered. You bore it well.'

'Thank you,' she said, a little uncertainly. 'I have to admit that I wasn't expecting an initiation tonight, but I understand the importance of ensuring the loyalty of the Dark Lord's supporters. The sooner I am accepted, the sooner Sirius can come home.'

'Ah,' Lucius said, 'so you do know where he is.'

Ariadne smiled. 'Come now, Lucius, you don't really expect me to answer that, do you?'

'No. I would have thought you a fool if you had.'

'I would prefer to see his acquittal in writing first. I want to see something in the _Daily Prophet_, I want to see legal documents, I want to see a full retraction of all charges and an official apology from the Ministry. When they've finished grovelling, _then_ I will kill them. Every last one of them will pay for what they did to us.'

Lucius nodded respectfully. 'I have long awaited that day. But the reason I wanted to speak to you is to tell you that I have already set the wheels in motion. I have spoken to Cornelius Fudge and Mafalda Hopkirk, amongst others, and informed them that I was unfortunate enough to encounter one Peter Pettigrew last week. Quite a shock, considering he was supposed to have been dead for the past thirteen years.'

'But what about Pettigrew himself? And the Dark Lord? Surely it is not to their advantage for the Ministry to know of them?'

'Pettigrew is a weak and pathetic fool,' Malfoy spat. 'He is a cowardly servant of the Dark Lord who would prove an excellent appetiser to be served up to the Ministry to deflect them away from the second rising. Pettigrew knows nothing of our meeting tonight. Most of us object most strenuously to the Dark Lord's dependence on him in any case. After all, it was he who led the Dark Lord to the Potters that night, a move that almost destroyed him. Pettigrew has long since outlived his usefulness.'

'Ah,' she said, 'I wondered why he wasn't here tonight.'

'Well, things should be settled within a few days. I shall send word to you when it is safe. Perhaps it would be best if Black attends one of our meetings before he attempts to re-enter the wizarding community. He will need to undergo the initiation and I need to have a few more discussions with some of the Ministry's officials. We will discuss then how we will begin to pave the way for the return of the Dark Lord.'

'And where is he now? Have you found him yet?'

Malfoy's pale face for some reason seemed to be a little more pink than usual. 'He is resting, too weak at the moment to reclaim his place, but be assured that he will be back very soon.'

'I hope so. I think I can speak for Sirius as well as myself when I say that I am eager for the Dark Lord's return. The traitors and Mudbloods have been allowed too much freedom for far too long.'

'I couldn't have stated it better myself. I shall, of course, be requiring a demonstration of your gratitude for the risks I have taken on your behalf, Ariadne. Something more…_tangible_,' he said, his fingers trailing lazily over her thigh, squeezing her flesh through her robes.

Ariadne smiled awkwardly. His touch was making her feel both incensed and nauseous at the same time.

'I'm sure something can be arranged, Lucius,' she managed to choke out.

'I look forward to it,' Malfoy whispered, getting to his feet and offering his hand to help her up.

She thanked him and made her way back to the others. Malfoy closed the meeting, extinguished the fire and gradually, the gathered witches and wizards began to Disapparate.

'I shall contact you soon to discuss our…_agreement_,' Malfoy reiterated just before he and Narcissa Disapparated too. The crack was still echoing around the church as Ariadne pulled her cloak tighter around herself again and in a flash, was back at the motel.

As soon as she put the lights on, she threw off her cloak and rushed straight to the bathroom where she ran herself a steaming hot bath and lay there soaking and scrubbing herself in the bubbles for almost an hour. She had always thought that most witches and wizards didn't know what they were missing by using scourgifying charms - the soothing and relaxing properties of a nice, hot, bubble-filled Muggle-type bath could never be overstated as far as she was concerned and were a match for the best of tranquillity draughts. As much as she usually enjoyed taking a bath though, when she emerged, she still didn't feel any cleaner. The sickly scent of the fire still lingered in her nose and the scar itched, ached and burned on her arm, but it was the psychological grime that she found the hardest to move. She could still feel the ghost of Malfoy's hand on her thigh, making her stomach lurch every time she thought of it.

Pulling on one of the motel's robes and running a comb through her wet hair, she grabbed the silver case with the Floo powder and knelt down in front of the fireplace. She was about to call for Sirius when she realised that there was no reason for her to stay at the motel any longer. It could be a few days before she heard from Malfoy again and even then, the owl would be able to find her wherever she was and right now, she wanted nothing more than to be with Sirius again.

She dressed, gathered her things together, checked out of the motel and Apparated back to the shores of Derwentwater, very grateful that the heat of the day had long since dissipated from here, leaving the air brisk, sharp and clean. So much so that she gathered her cloak a little tighter around her as she walked back towards the clearing where her home stood.

It was very late when she arrived; she hadn't realised just _how_ late until she saw how far Pegasus and Andromeda had moved across the sky and realised that it must be around two thirty in the morning. Nonetheless, she felt reassured to see that the Disillusionment charm was still in place around her house, but as she was the only one who knew it was there, she didn't have any trouble locating the front door.

Sirius was slouched in her favourite armchair, fast asleep, in front of a roaring fire. A half-full glass of Firewhisky leaned precariously in his hand, and on the small table beside him was a plate with a few crumbs that looked like the remainders of a pumpkin pasty. Her battered copy of '_Quidditch Through The Ages' _lay open on his knee beside the glass of Firewhisky and she smiled to herself as she knelt down in front of him, pulled the book and the glass gently away from his hands. Despite her suggestion that he try reading something constructive instead of just moping about the house feeling sorry for himself, she should have realised that he would still end up with a Quidditch book. She never had been able to get him to read anything that had the word 'textbook' or 'education' attached to it in the past, and it didn't look as though that was likely to change now.

He must have been naturally gifted as a wizard because his skills had certainly never come from studying. Actually, she seemed to recall that he had spent most of his final exams leaning back on his chair, chewing the end of his quill and making eyes at the witches around him who had been far more tempted by him and his dark, brooding good looks than the tattered pieces of parchment in front of them. And yet he still managed to pass all his O.W.L's.

She still couldn't believe that, out of all the women Sirius could have had, he'd chosen her. Despite the weight he'd lost, despite the pale pallor prison had left him with, he was a very attractive man who still had the power to make something flip over in her stomach when she looked at him. Even after all these years.

'Sirius?' she whispered, pushing strands of his dark hair away from his face.

He awoke with a start, his fingers flying instinctively towards his wand, but as soon as he saw her, his face broke out in a wide, warm, welcoming smile and he pulled her into his arms.

'Ari! I didn't expect you back so soon. Merlin, I'm glad you're back. It's lonely here without you.'

'It's only been a day,' she said affectionately, but her arms were tight around him too as she closed her eyes, laying her head against his chest.

'An hour's too long. We've been apart too much already.' He pressed a kiss into her hair, moving his hands to either side of her face to push her back so he could look at her. 'Are you okay?' he asked, his thumbs drawing slow circles against her cheeks. 'Did they hurt you?'

'No, I'm fine. They let me in. Malfoy is making arrangements for you to come back within the next couple of days. It won't be long, Sirius. We just have to be patient for a little while longer.'

He might have believed her if his hands hadn't moved again to run over her arms and she hadn't flinched.

His brow creased in confusion and concern and he grabbed her wrist even as she tried to pull it away.

'Sirius, it's - '

'Merlin,' he gasped as he pushed back the sleeves of her robe and saw the Dark Mark burned into her skin.

'It's alright,' she murmured, avoiding his eyes. 'It's done now. It's just a tattoo. You got those in Azkaban, didn't you? It's no big deal.'

'_No big deal_? My tattoos can't summon me to Voldemort's side. They weren't burned on in a dark rite designed to cause pain. They don't lie by omission and get you inducted into the bloody Death-Eaters, Ariadne. What the hell is wrong with you?!'

'I did it for you! Because I love you, because I want you to be free, because I want more for us and Harry than what we've been left with. If having this mark is the price for that, then I'd gladly pay it a thousand times over. It was the only way they would have believed me enough to help you.'

'But I never wanted this, Ari! You said it would never go that far, that you'd stop if it did. Don't you know what having this means?'

'Of course I do. I'm not a child, Sirius. But it's a risk I'm willing to take for you and Harry. You-Know-Who is too weak at the moment and if we succeed, it won't matter anyway. It's a mark and that's all it is. Besides, I don't intend to display it for everyone to see.'

But he was not to be pacified. 'You should have told me, Ari. There was no need to take it this far.'

She took his face in her hands, even though he was refusing to look at her. 'It will be worth it, I promise you. For me, for you, for Harry…for Lily and James too. There's no risk that James wouldn't have taken to keep Harry safe. How can you ever be of any help to him on the run? Or worse? Sirius, please don't be angry with me. I need your support.'

He closed his eyes and sighed. He had to acknowledge that she was probably right, but that still didn't make it any easier. In the absence of anything else to be said that could prevent her from continuing down the path she had chosen, he just opened his arms to her again and pulled her close, holding her head against his chest. They just held each other for a while in silence before he let her go and she sat back on her heels.

'I'm not angry with you, Ari. I'm just…I don't know…angry with myself, I suppose. For not being with you…for not being able to do something to prevent this. I didn't want you to get hurt and now you have been and I feel so powerless, so inadequate, such a bloody pathetic failure…'

'Hey, there's no need for you to be feeling any of those things. No one forced me to go to that cemetery. I _chose_ to. Because I love you. Because I want to help you. There are people out there that you should be directing your anger at, if you have to direct it at anyone.'

He sighed again. He knew that she was right, but he hated having to admit to his helplessness, whether temporary or not. But he was deeply touched by her unswerving devotion to him. Particularly when he felt as though he'd done nothing to deserve it. 'So what happens now?' he asked softly.

'Malfoy says that things have already been set in motion with the Ministry. Turns out that Wormtail isn't too popular with either camp at the moment.'

'Too goddamned right,' he muttered. 'Filthy little weasel. Bloodsucking repulsive, ugly, traitorous, stinking little - '

'I know how you feel, but that doesn't help us now. Malfoy has said that he is going to make it known that he has seen Pettigrew alive. He's going to send word to me as soon as it is safe for you and as soon as he does, he wants to meet with you.'

'With _me_?' he said incredulously. 'What on earth for? I thought it was you he had the thing for.'

She smiled. 'He does _not_ have a thing for me. Maybe he did once, but you know what he's like, Sirius. Likes to assert his authority. You'd probably be looking around if you were married to Narcissa too.'

'Maybe,' he chuckled, brushing the back of his finger over her cheek.

'Whether or not Pettigrew is around, the vast majority of people still believe that you killed twelve people with a single curse. Even when you're cleared, I suspect that some people will still be wary of you and that kind of reputation will always go down well with the Death Eaters, particularly now that the Dark Lord is on the rise again. I think Malfoy has a special place in mind for you.'

Sirius grinned wickedly again. 'Oh, so I have a reputation, do I? How much is the price on my head these days anyway?'

'It's not funny, Sirius. You have to make this good or they're never going to believe us and you'll never get close enough to get Pettigrew. And without him, you'll never be free.'

'I know.' The disappointment couldn't have been more evident in his voice. 'So they want to see me…I suppose I have to admit that I did expect it, just not so soon. I'm sure I'll be able to manage. The only hard part will be trying to restrain myself from choking the life out of that stinking little rat the second I see him. Do you reckon I'd get away with an Unforgivable?'

'Tempting, I know, but no. You're better than that, Sirius. James wouldn't have wanted you to become a killer - or a torturer - and I wholeheartedly agree with him. Death is too quick for Pettigrew. Once he's done twelve years in Azkaban without going insane, then you'll be even. Then we can both sell Malfoy and the others to the Ministry as a bonus, and we can all finally get on with our lives.'

'Sounds good to me.' He leaned back into the chair and rubbed a hand over his tired, drawn face. His eyes seemed to have grown darker over the past day or so and instead of looking at least marginally better than he had when he'd first escaped, Ariadne was beginning to think he was looking worse. Sitting, waiting, thinking, considering - none of these had ever been Sirius' strong points. Ariadne knew that he must be tearing his hair out and she had nothing but sympathy for him, but there was little more they could do at this stage.

'How's Buckbeak?' she asked, by way of a slight change in direction that she hoped would cheer him up.

'Oh, he's having the time of his life making one hell of a mess of the watermill and clearing a five mile radius of every stoat, squirrel, vole, bat and just about anything else that he can lay his claws on,' Sirius sighed. 'He knows not to go too far though so don't worry about him.'

'What about Harry? Have you heard from him?'

'Not yet. I told him about the Firebolt I sent him though. Gave him the permission slip he needed to go to Hogsmead on the weekends, too. There was so much more I wanted to tell him, but the only owl I could find looked half dead as it was. If I'd given it any more than one roll of parchment it probably would have collapsed before it'd gotten as far as the edge of the lake. I told Harry to give it to his friend, Ron…the one I frightened to death with the knife, you know?' he added with a self-deprecating smile. 'You made me feel a bit guilty about that.'

'You already felt guilty. You didn't need me to bring that out of you.'

'Maybe a little. I robbed the poor kid of his pet too. Even though it wasn't a great loss really…Pettigrew made as good a rat as he did a human being.'

Ariadne chuckled. 'Can't argue with that.'

He looked across at her; at the candlelight caressing her cheekbones and warming her eyes, and had never loved her more than he did then. He touched her hair. 'I'm sorry if I've been tetchy with you. It hasn't been very easy for me, these past few months. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful or critical.'

She nodded as his fingers moved from her hair, over her arms and down to her hands.

'So what do we do now? Just sit and wait?'

'I think so,' she replied with a shrug. 'There's not much else we _can_ do. You-Know-Who is still in hiding, you still have to keep a low profile and I'm about as popular as a case of spattergroit, so until we get the all-clear, I think we're holed up here.'

A slow, sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. For an instant, twenty years seemed to disappear from his face and she saw a flash of the boy she had once known in the man in front of her; the spark that still lived within him, buried beneath the years of accumulated bitterness, anger, frustration and loneliness. 'Mmm. Well, I'm sure we'll find something to do.'

'I suppose we'll have to,' she grinned, her fingers wandering over his thighs, his waist, up beneath the loose black shirt. His skin felt so soft and warm beneath her fingertips as she explored him, leaning closer as she pushed the shirt back and began touching gentle kisses to his stomach.

'Mmm…that's nice,' he breathed, slumping down a little further in the seat as she moved her attentions up over his chest, 'but it's very late…what do you say to us moving…_oh_…that feels _really_ good…moving this upstairs…'

She stopped and moved back just a little to take her wand from her robe. '_Accio Rug. Accio Shawl_,' she whispered, and the plush, soft rug that usually lay in front of the sofa slid across the floor to the front of the fireplace, swiftly joined by a large, thick Aztec-style blanket that unfolded itself from a hamper in the corner and flew across the room to the rug. '_Candela Inflammarae,_'she added, pointing the wand at the thick church candles that stood either side of the mantle above the fire. Instantly, they burst into life, sending flickering shadows and thin orange tendrils of light crawling over the room.

'How's that?' she said, smiling warmly as she pulled him down onto the floor beside her and finished her work on his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders as he laid back into the soft sheepskin rug.

He reached for her, pulling her into a heartfelt embrace as he kissed her with a sweet, gentle tenderness that touched her deeply enough to bring tears to her eyes.

'Perfect,' he said softly when they broke apart for just a moment, long enough for him to unbutton her robes and pull the shawl over them both. 'Absolutely perfect.'


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

Never in all the years that he had been locked away from any semblance of a normal life had Sirius ever imagined that he would feel as happy again as he did now. Even confined mainly to the cottage, the garden and the pump house, he nonetheless felt a freedom that was as sweet, delicious and precious to him as the memories that had kept him going through a time of his life he was increasingly coming to regard as the Dark Years. Penance years. Years filled with nothing but loneliness, isolation, misery, hopelessness and despair. Years that he was doing everything in his power to excise from his memory.

He was running out of superlatives to describe his experience of everything that had been denied him for so long - the sky seemed so much bluer, the sun so much brighter, the air fresher and the trees greener. Every day he was amazed by the thrill he felt at such simple things - seeing a butterfly landing on one of Ariadne's lavender plants; hearing the call of the birds first thing in the morning and as they flocked to their nests at night; savouring the scents of freshly ground coffee, pot roast and hot buttered toast; the taste of chocolate, honey, sponge cake and apples picked straight from a tree that Ariadne had planted herself.

But more than all those things, more than any kind of conscious external experience was the simplest thing in the world, something that most people took for granted.

To wake up in the morning and feel the weight and warmth of her beside him; to feel her arm around his waist or resting against his chest; to see her smile as she opened her eyes and kissed him softly as though he were the most precious thing in the world to her; to hear her breathy confessions of how much she loved him as they moved so rhythmically, so perfectly together as though they were one heart, one mind, one soul; never tiring of each other from the time the sun set until it painted the sky with fire again at dawn. Having Ariadne back again was worth more than anything else his freedom could possibly have brought him.

The more time he spent with her, the deeper his feelings grew and the more determined he became to make what they were trying to do work. If it did, they could finally be together properly. They would have a home, _a life, _and so would Harry. The thought of seeing his face when they would tell him that he could finally leave the Dursley's and have two people in his life who would love and care for him as much as his own parents had left Sirius with a fluttering, restless anxiety in the pit of his stomach that made the waiting for Lucius' letter all the more agonising.

As much as he would have liked this temporary calm to last, he knew that, like all good things, it had to end sometime.

Very soon, it did…with the arrival of a large snow-white owl.

Ariadne had been crouched among the echinacea and rosemary, weeding the flower beds with a few withering charms while Sirius was down in the stream giving Buckbeak a bath when Malfoy's owl landed on top of the picket fence.

It sat there with its head held high, looking quite indifferent as it displayed its enormous wingspan while it waited for Ariadne to remove the parchment that was tied to its leg. She conjured an owl treat with her wand and offered it to the bird, but it turned its head away in a gesture that was almost disgust.

'Just like the rest of the Malfoys, aren't you?' she told it. It refused to move from the fence until she finally managed to find a mouse to offer it instead. The owl flapped its wings and grabbed the unfortunate creature in its talons as it took off, soaring up through the tree canopy into the bright blue morning sky above.

Ariadne unrolled the parchment and glanced at the few ornately written words before she rolled it back up again and started to run down from the garden towards the stream.

Although he was supposed to have been bathing Buckbeak, it appeared as though Sirius had been getting the soaking. Buckbeak was running happily back and forth through the water, squawking, stamping his talons, swishing his tail and flapping his huge wings, creating a mini waterspout in the centre of the pool while Sirius, soapy brush and wand in hand, was trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to catch him. Like Buckbeak, Sirius was soaked through, his hair dripping wet and his clothes clinging to him like a second skin.

'Beaky, get back here!' he yelled, just when he lost his footing on the slime-covered stones again and slipped beneath the water.

Buckbeak squawked loudly, the closest he could probably get to laughing, as Sirius pulled himself up, running his hands through his hair and wiping the sheets of water from his face.

'You just wait! You bloody bird….when I get hold of you, Beaky…I'm warning you! That's the last ferret you're getting, you hear me? I'm not chasing down ferrets or voles or rats anymore for you! You can catch your own or live on the damn grass!'

The weight that had settled in the pit of her stomach when the letter had arrived somehow didn't seem quite so heavy anymore as she sat down on a pile of stones to watch them, a bemused smile on her face.

Sirius gave up and started crawling up the embankment, his jeans and t-shirt sodden and covered with mud, his hair hanging in thin, wet clumps over his face.

'Buckbeak enjoyed his bath then, huh?' Ariadne grinned as he stumbled towards her.

'Ah, he can stink if he wants to,' he said, flopping down on the stones beside her. 'Bloody bird…he just won't get any potential mates to take him seriously while he smells like a cross between a latrine and a dog with wet fur. And I refuse to ride him while he stinks like that…_You hear me, Beaky_?' He raised his voice to the Hippogriff. 'I refuse to come anywhere near you! That includes meal times!'

Buckbeak cawed softly as he picked his way through the mud, lowered his head and pushed his beak up against Sirius' arm. Sirius resisted for a while, until Buckbeak started pushing him harder and nipping at him. Only then did Sirius' frown melt away into a long-suffering smile and he reached up to scratch the Hippogriff's silky feathered head. 'You know, Beaky, you're lucky you saved me and I owe you. Else I'd put you out to pasture for being a pain in the arse.'

Buckbeak bent his scaly front legs and laid down, resting his head in Sirius' lap, cawing softly in the back of his throat.

'Aw, you shouldn't tease him so much,' said Ariadne. 'He loves you, you know.'

'Got a funny way of showing it,' he said with a wry smile as he leaned over him, hugging his huge, feathered head and scratching the back of his neck. He looked over at the parchment clutched in Ariadne's hand. 'I take it by the frown that's what we've been waiting for.'

She nodded and handed him the parchment.

Sirius let it roll open as he held it in his left hand, still scratching Buckbeak with his right, as he read it.

_Dear Ariadne,_

_Look in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. Further documentation will be sent then. If all is satisfactory, please owl me as soon as possible so that arrangements can be made for the meeting we discussed._

_I look forward to hearing from you_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy._

Sirius finished reading and handed the parchment back to Ariadne.

For a long while he remained silent, just scratching Buckbeak's head as he stared out across the pool towards the stream that babbled happily through the trees.

'Are you all right?' Ariadne asked, slipping her hand over his knee. 'You haven't said anything for - '

'I'm fine,' he murmured, 'I just feel…I don't know…strange, I suppose. It's been so long, I've gotten used to living like this…just you, me and Beaky, and now…' He shrugged, helpless to find the words that could truly convey how he was feeling, 'I suppose maybe I'm a bit - '

'Frightened?'

He looked at her, a shadow of a tired smile on his face as he nodded.

She moved her hand to cover his and gently squeezed his fingers. 'It's all right to feel that way. You've been through so much, Sirius. I know that this isn't going to be easy, but you have me, you have Harry and you even have Dumbledore behind you now, not to mention Harry's friends and Remus, too. We all believe in you. We all know you're innocent. That has to count for something.'

'What about Beaky? He's still under a death sentence.'

'I'm sure that the Ministry will have far more important things than a Hippogriff on their minds as soon as they realise that You-Know-Who is on his way back. Do you think that anything Malfoy says, or has said in the past, is going to be important once everyone realises what he is?'

'I doubt it will be that simple.'

'And you've no reason to believe it won't be. Don't worry so much. Buckbeak will be fine. Neither of us will let anything happen to him. If the worst happens, then we'll just come back and hide out here. I've done okay all these years.'

He still harboured some concerns, but her reassurances had eased the knot of tension that had lodged itself deep in his gut and for that, he was grateful. He leaned closer to her, resting his head against her shoulder, as she moved her hand softly over his back. It was good to be close to someone again. To be comforted. Reassured. Someone to share the burdens he'd had to bear alone for so long.

'Everything is going to be fine, Sirius. I promise you. Things are going to be so much better than you could ever have dreamed and one day, you're going to look back on all this and smile. Really you will.'

It was easy, sitting there in the warmth of a late August afternoon, with the woman he loved beside him and Buckbeak asleep in his lap, to believe that.

But he also knew that more dark days would come before the light he craved so desperately would finally dawn.


End file.
